This poem was written for my sister - we had these damn stinging, spiky caterpillars (we called them "stinging worms") that would be all over creation at our childhood home. We were terrified of them, but were always barefoot. Enjoy.
Stinging Worms
Every spring when it was warm enough to play bare foot,
the stinging worms would surround our house.
One day you stepped on one and screamed bloody murder.
I watched in horror, but I knew the next day we would go outside
throwing caution to the wind, barefoot and free.
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